


Gingerbread and Spice

by Mrs_Stiltskin (Lady_Belles_Teacup)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark One Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015, Sex in the Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), Shameless Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Belles_Teacup/pseuds/Mrs_Stiltskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Yuletide at the Dark Castle, and Rumplestiltskin wonders why Belle is sad. Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gingerbread and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> RSS 2015
> 
> Giftee: Emilianna-Pond
> 
> Prompt: Secret Crushes, Gingerbread, Snow, Ribbons
> 
> A/N: I have never written a Dark Castle fic, and I was pretty happy when my Santee said she would like Dark Castle. I loved the prompt, but I only hope I did it justice. :) It is a bit of an AU, though it could pretty much fit in the timeline with some artistic license. Anyway, I do hope you love it and it was all that you hoped for!  
> Words: 6500
> 
> Rating: NC-17, Minimal plot...lotsa smutty smut.

**Gingerbread and Spice**

As the snow began to fall in gentle flurries that dusted the courtyard rose bushes with powdered sugar, Rumplestiltskin noticed that his little maid had begun to wilt as surely as his once fine roses. The usual brightness of her smile had faded, and although she tried to be cheerful when she brought him his tea, if he stole a glance at her while she was pouring or laying out his favorite treats, he could see the corners of her mouth turned down and telltale tightness around her eyes.

He should not care about this turn of events, after all, she was just his maid. But once her initial shock at being whisked to the Dark Castle had faded and her tears dried, she had seemed so promising. She was clever and learned, by turns frustratingly pragmatic and maddeningly optimistic, industrious so long as a book did not catch her fancy, and so lovely it made his heart ache if he looked at her for too long. Lovely? Rumplestiltskin shook his head, grimacing. No! He could not allow himself to be distracted by her loveliness. She was not for him. He could not permit himself to see her as a woman. He had too much yet to do to find his Baelfire to be distracted again by this mere slip of a girl!

But he did find it upsetting to come upon her sweeping the halls or dusting his vast collection of trinkets and see the undried tears of sorrow glisten on her cheeks. Even though she turned away, wiping her eyes to hide them, he saw them. “Have I not provided you with comfortable quarters?” He asked on one occasion, rather more sharply than he intended and felt a pang when she flinched away from him.

But Belle rallied immediately, squaring her shoulders and brushing down her skirts, “Yes, of course. My new room is very comfortable.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes, “I do thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking for thanks!” He snapped, regretting it immediately. Damn! But she threw him into such a state. Rumplestiltskin settled himself, speaking more gently as he added, “I simply meant to ask if you find your new room suitable? More fit for a lady than than the dungeon?” Why oh why did he bring up the dungeon? He had merely been testing her mettle, and though she’d wept at night alone in the dark, she’d never wavered in her resolve to follow through on her promise. He felt his hands clenched at his sides and forcibly relaxed them.

“Yes, sir, so much better than the dungeon.” She thought of the plain stone room, the simple bed and few pieces of clothing and toilette that Rumplestiltskin insisted were all about getting her further away from him. She blushed to her toes when he told her that her loud snoring at all hours of the night was disturbing his spinning. She was of a certainty that she did not snore! But if she did, how could it be loud enough to disturb Rumplestiltskin from his spinning? “If there is nothing else?” She hurried away when he dismissed her with a flick of his hand, not looking at her.

Rumplestiltskin heard her when she stopped on the stairs, sinking down onto the bottom step and sobbing into her skirts. He was certain it was due to the austerity of her quarters. She had grown up in the castle of a noble Lord, she was not a princess by any means, but she was a Lady and was used to the comforts of her father’s castle. He had given her a library after all, to dust, he reminded himself. His mind flashing back to the warmth of her embrace when she’d thanked him for sparing the thief’s life. She had been working diligently, when she wasn’t reading or challenging him at every turn as she had with the thief, Robin of Locksley! Ah, well, he had decided, it had been centuries since anyone had challenged him. Baelfire. His son was the only one. The one who had challenged him and grounded him. If he was honest with himself, he found it intriguing that she didn’t seem to fear him, but put her chin up and made him think!

Perhaps it would cheer her up, return the rosy glow to her cheeks, if he gave her a few extra comforts. It would cost him a little magic, he reasoned and might gain him his cheerful, fierce little maid back. With a thought, her turret rooms changed silently above her. The only sign, the slight waft of ozone and tangy scent of magic that reached her at the bottom of the stairs.

When Belle finally made it to her room, she was astonished to see the change. It was now a suite of rooms at the top of the turret. Open windows with billowing white curtains let in the cool light of the late fall and commanded a stunning view of the entire valley below. Her bed was now a confection of pillows and a down duvet like a soft ocean of white foam, finely woven draperies of sunshine yellow and gauzy white hung on four tall posts ready to close out the chill of the castle. A bathing room meant she would no longer have to wash in the kitchens, and a sitting room with a low couch and tables meant she could sit and read in her own space if she chose solitude.

In spite of herself, Belle found herself smiling. Monster? Rumplestiltskin was no monster. She knew he tried to put forth the image, but there was something more under there. A glimmer of humanity that made her look at him with something other than fear and aversion. He thought her sadness was due to a lack of comforts, she reasoned. Alas, it was not so simple a thing.

Belle awoke refreshed, and was shocked to find a warm bath greeted her in her bathing room. She perhaps took a little extra time, splashing about and washing her hair, binding it with a sky blue ribbon that matched one of the new dresses in her wardrobe. There were several, and cloaks to match, and shoes as well. The dusty blue one was her immediate favorite, it was shorter than the gowns she was used to, and laced in the front, so she could make it as tight or as loose as she liked. When she caught a glimpse of the sun high in the winter sky, she gasped… Breakfast! She had been lingering here in her rooms and forgotten all about Rumplestiltskin’s breakfast.

“You’re late,” He growled when his little maid emerged from the kitchens, long overdue with his breakfast. He rose from his spinning and perched himself at the head of the table, steepling his fingers and feeling his heart jump into his throat when he saw her. He was ashamed of the way his eyes raked across her, drinking her in. Her shapely ankles scandalously exposed by the blue dress, that was quite a bit shorter than the local custom, the creamy tops of her rounded bosoms peeking above the white lace of her bodice, her already tiny waist narrowed further by the tight corset. Her chestnut curls bound loosely with a ribbon the exact same color as her beautiful blue eyes. He was at once breathless and aghast at his own thoughts. His maid!

Belle curtseyed, breakfast tray in hand, blushing when she saw his eyes follow her, “Yes, sir, I am so sorry. I have made you several of your favorites this morning.” She placed the tray on the table, bending at the waist and offering him a view of her cleavage that she was certain he would not fail to notice. She was not disappointed as she saw his pupils widen, his breath hitched just slightly before he tittered and looked away nervously. His hands fluttering. “My bath was just so warm and lovely.”

“Yes, well, just don’t let it happen again! Needs must you arise earlier, if you want to splash about in your bath.” Rumplestiltskin snapped, rising and taking a piece of toast. He looked out the open window, carefully angled away from her. The thought of her warm and naked in the bath he provided while he gazed at the plump, creamy orbs spilling out of her corset was simply too much. He should not be feeling such stirrings in his old, cursed loins!

Belle watched his discomfiture with quiet amusement, her lips quirked in a wry smile. He always tried to seem so frightening, but she could see beneath the show of teeth and claws was a man after all. And a lonely man at that. She had been trying to pry him out of his shell for months now, and little by little was learning more about him, the family he’d lost, the centuries he had been the Dark One. She was shocked by her own flirtatiousness, yet she felt a stirring in her belly, knowing even now that he was reacting to her display.

Belle watched him at the window, studiously ignoring her. She fussed with the dishes on the table, stealing glances at his lithe form and appreciating the shape of him framed in the window. His clothing was always showy and made of exquisite fabrics, but it was also fitted to him like a second skin, and she could see the shape of his muscular thighs and slim waist silhouetted against the mullioned window. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through his gently curled locks and across the pebbled skin of his throat. A small sigh escaped her and Rumplestiltskin glanced sharply in her direction. No, she didn’t think she should be thinking of her employer this way. Employer? Master more like. And forever. Why would he be the least bit interested in the affections of his maid?

“Is everything all right?” Rumplestiltskin inquired, seating himself at his wheel and taking up his spinning. Every movement he made was like the steps of a dance, she thought. Belle nodded, swallowing hard and looking away.

Belle looked at the table laden with food, “I made your favorites, will you not eat?” She gestured to a plate of rather rubbery looking scrambled eggs and strips of charred bacon, lumpy biscuits and something that may have been scones. Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard, trying not to grimace.

“Breakfast!” He exclaimed, “Why, it is nearly lunchtime!” He busied himself with his spinning, looking away from her crestfallen pout. “I will wait, but since you went to all the trouble, go ahead and eat here at the table.”

Belle sat and ate her breakfast, noticing how Rumplestiltskin watched her, though he pretended to spin. She wandered to the window, picking apart the last of a piece of toast, and watching the last of the powdery sprinkle of snow melt off the roses. As happy as she had seemed moments before, he saw her reflection in the window grow melancholy, as if she would weep at any moment.

But she did not. She turned and cleared the table, perhaps a little hastily, clattering the dishes and hurried herself down to the kitchens. Rumplestiltskin stood and looked out the window, trying to discern what had suddenly turned Belle to tears again. The snow had completely melted, but it was still nearly winter and sun looked somehow smaller and the air looked somehow colder, and Rumplestiltskin was completely puzzled. Belle? When had he begun to think of her as Belle? As other than his little maid? Rumplestiltskin frowned as he returned to his spinning, the golden thread slipping unheeded through his fingers, the soft whirr of the wheel not soothing his troubled mind as it usually did.

Things did not improve over the next few days, in fact they got worse, the shorter the days became, the quieter and more remote Belle seemed. She disappeared more frequently into her library and did not sit in the great hall to read in the evenings as she had been wont to do while he spun. He found himself missing her quiet company and berated himself immediately for it. He told himself he was not looking for her when he wandered the halls, and he did not disturb her when he found her in her library, sobbing breathlessly into a pillow. Loathe to admit the ache it caused in his withered, old heart, he simply turned and went again to his spinning.

One afternoon when he arrived at the great hall for tea, he was puzzled to find the mantel of his large fireplace draped with red ribbon and lengths of his own golden thread, a large bow tied at the center, and a good-sized candle lit just above it. When Belle...no his maid… arrived with tea, a strange, spicy aroma accompanied the usual scents of her slowly improving honeycakes and scones.

“What is that smell?” Rumplestiltskin asked, as Belle set the tea things on the long table, peering over her shoulder. He had to admit it was a pleasant smell, warm and comforting. It seemed to emanate from small squares of rich, brown cake, each with a dollop of sweetened clotted cream melting on the top. “And why is my great hall suddenly festooned with ribbons? Hmmmm?”

“I’ve made gingerbread,” Belle answered, setting a square on a plate and turning to hand it to him. She found him so close, she wasn’t certain if he was breathing in the scent of her or of the cake and she blushed, dropping her eyes. Which did not help, since they landed on the front of Rumplestiltskin’s leather breeches, and she was certain he felt her gaze linger there as she handed him the treat. He stepped nervously aside, skittering away from her, popping the sweet in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

“And the ribbons?” He asked, reaching for another piece of gingerbread.

“Well, it’s only a fortnight until Yuletide,” Belle answered carefully. He could see her struggling again with emotion and he suddenly had an inkling of what had been causing her sorrow of late. “We always made gingerbread and decorated the castle with ribbons and garlands of evergreen and holly. And candles everywhere. In the windows and on the mantels, the candles would burn day and night at the Yuletide.”

“It is a time that you celebrated with your family,” Rumplestiltskin said sadly, “and you miss them now. That is why you have been sorrowing these past days.”

Belle nodded, “I have felt so lonely, thinking about it.” She fought back tears and her voice shook a bit when she finally continued, “My Mama, would let me help her make the gingerbread. And we would eat the cakes warm from the hearth, and then we would bring some to Papa at tea and eat some more. I miss them, Rumplestiltskin, my family. Even though it was too late to save my mother, I am so very grateful to you for letting me save my Papa and the rest of them. But I miss them, and I miss the festivals and the special times we shared.”

“Belle,” He began, his own voice choked a bit, and Belle glanced quickly up at him, interrupting.

“Then I remembered this morning that you are lonely, too,” Belle moved toward him, and he froze. She could hear his heart beating furiously in his chest and she suddenly didn’t care that he was her master and she was his maid. “I wanted you to remember the Yuletide season with me. I found the ribbon and the candles, and I baked the gingerbread just the way my Mama taught me.”

“It’s delicious, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin breathed. He looked down into his tea. His heart was full of this girl and he didn’t know what to do. Here she was, standing so close to him, an old monster, the Dark One, and she was unafraid. Unbowed by even the loneliness that he had brought upon her. She had retreated for a while, but her true heart won out, and her generous spirit was willing to share even herself with him.

She smiled and blushed again, sliding closer until her arm was touching him, “Thank you.” She leaned into him and he did not move away. She turned and looked him in the eye, thinking to herself how beautiful his eyes were, if one truly looked into them, “You have never called me by my name before.”

He looked away, standing and moving away from her, away from the depths of those blue eyes that could swallow him whole. “I.. I..” he stammered.

“I like it.”

“Yes, well, you called me by my name also. Not sir.”

“Rumplestiltskin,” Belle breathed, and moved closer to him again, placing her hand on the burgundy brocade of his fitted waistcoat.

She watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard, trying to back away from her and finding his way blocked by the massive oak table behind him. “I like it as well,” he managed weakly.

He should not be doing this. But he wanted to, oh how he wanted to kiss those plump, pink lips. Taste her sweet breath and breathe in the luscious scent of her. Belle. Beautiful Belle. How could she desire his cursed flesh? He was never lovely, and now, now he was a monster with green-gold scales and ebony talons, the eyes of a dragon and the heart of a demon. How could this precious girl want what he was?

Belle watched him with curiosity, she saw him struggle with some inner thought, even as his hands reached out to grip her waist and pull her flush against him. He closed his beautiful eyes, but she studied the glint of gold that shone in the afternoon light, glistening on his cheekbones, the skin of his throat. Even his ruined teeth did not repulse her as she studied him in that moment. His breath was sweet in spite of appearances as she lifted her face to his. In the pit of her belly, she wanted him. She wanted to explore him, even though she knew it should feel wrong to do so. Why? Why was it wrong? She could not put a name to it. She was no longer betrothed, she was here forever, and she wanted him. Was that not enough?

He did not move. But he felt Belle lean into him, lifting herself on tiptoe to press her lips to his. For all his strength and magic, he could not help but answer her. Slipping his tongue between her lips and tasting everything that she was, his belly contracting in pleasure, his body reacting as he’d nearly forgotten it could. She opened eagerly for him, and he delved into her mouth with all the passionate loneliness of centuries. He felt Belle moan and he felt the magic of his curse tugged at gently from within, not True Love’s Kiss yet, but he could feel the potential and it made Rumplestiltskin shake with desire. She truly wanted him, in spite of all, her desire was genuine and it drove him mad with the want of her.

He kissed her, spinning her gently through the room, like a dance. Her eyes closed while their tongues and limbs intertwined as they skimmed across the floor. When they broke apart of necessity, breaths coming in shallow gasps, still clutching the lapels of his weskit, she opened her eyes to find the room transformed about her. Candles sparked to life from every available surface. Holly boughs and evergreen swags decorated every mantel and window sill in the room. Ribbons of pure, spun gold adorned every sconce, and wove throughout the greenery. A spruce fully twenty feet tall stood just to the side of the great fireplace and it was festooned from top to bottom in sparkling golds and deep reds. Gigantic crystalline snowflakes and real fairy lights danced amongst the branches.

“Rumple…” Belle’s knees felt weak. All of this, for her? She had no words, and tears threatened to overwhelm her.

Rumplestiltskin drew a coal-black nail gently down her cheek, and Belle shuddered. He traced her lips, licking his own, and Belle moaned, only his grip on her waist keeping her upright. He leaned in and brushed her lips softly, “Don’t worry,” he teased his tongue across her lips,”I’ll get used to it.”

Belle laughed at that and threw her arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug and Rumplestiltskin drew back. He glanced up, pointing to a large sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above them. Belle smiled and reached up for a kiss, but Rumplestiltskin took her face in his hands. He couldn’t help but see how his roughly scaled hands defiled her pure, porcelain complexion. He started to recoil.

But Belle, tangled her fingers in his soft hair and would not let him go. “Please,” she breathed.

She saw tears glisten in his eyes, “Are you sure you want this, Belle?” He held her face close to his, his breath ragged, all the while studying what he saw in her eyes. “You would let this demon have you? Your purity? Your soul? Is this not everything your father feared for you when I took you from his castle? That the Dark One would ravish you and ruin you?”

Belle slipped her hand around his waist, sliding it down to cup his buttock through the leather and pulled him close to her center, rubbing herself against him. “I am sure, Rumplestiltskin.” She kissed the side of his mouth and then the line of his jaw, flicking her tongue out to taste his skin as she worked her way to his throat. All the while rubbing up and down against the growing bulge in his trousers. He moaned loudly when she sucked in the skin of his throat and bit down gently.

“I would let Rumplestiltskin have me,” Belle mumbled between bites at his throat, still kneading his buttock and moving against him. “How can I be ruined if I am to be yours forever? It’s just that now, you will be mine as well. If I am never to marry or know a husband as I once thought I would, may I not know you, Rumplestiltskin?” Belle licked the spot just below his earlobe and found it smoother than the rough skin of his throat. “I very much want to know you quite thoroughly, Rumple.”

“Then you shall know every inch of me, maiden,” Rumplestiltskin growled, capturing her mouth once again, lowering his hand to her bodice and plucking at the strings of her corset, loosening it enough to slide it down, freeing her breasts from their constraints, pushing them up and together. To his delight, her nipples were already erect, the dusky pink areolas puckered and sensitive with desire. He wondered if the evidence of her desire had made it all the way to her sweet cunt and if he would find her wet and ready. He dipped down and slipped his tongue between her breasts, making Belle shiver and lean back in his arms seeking more.

Belle laughed a little, “You will not find me wholly a maiden, Rumplestiltskin.”

He looked at her quizzically, but not with scorn or disdain she noted, “Your betrothed?”

“No,” Belle shook her head and lifted her breasts to remind him she was waiting, “I have never lain with a man. But I am a curious girl,” here Belle blushed, not knowing if she should continue. Rumplestiltskin’s fingers began to pluck at one taut nipple. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger and Belle gasped, the sensation travelling directly to her clit, “Oh, yes, please, more of that.”

Rumplestiltskin thought he might explode in his leather britches, and may have done had he not the strength and stamina of the Dark One within him. This Belle was far more adventurous than he had imagined, thinking her innocent and corruptible. He was delighted by her openness and curiously aroused by her knowledge. He managed to pull more moans from her throat as he played with her breasts. Plucking and twisting and scraping her pale flesh with the blackened talons of his nails.

“Tell me,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, sucking one nipple into his mouth and then breathing on it. “Tell me what you did, curious girl.” His belly tightened again and he slipped his tongue in a circle around the pebbled nub. “I want to know everything.” He nipped with his teeth and Belle shuddered, running her fingers through his hair. He moaned with pleasure and she smiled, tugging at his hair.

“Are you sure you want to hear such things?” Belle inquired. At his nod and gentle nip, she laughed. “At first, I read books. Every book I could find in the castle library that spoke of this...mystery to be uncovered... be they wicked stories or medical texts, I snuck back to my room and devoured greedily. I looked at the drawings and they made my tummy tremble and I felt this yawning inside that I could not understand.

“I would watch the animals of the castle carefully and note how they copulated. But it never made feel quite the way I felt when I came upon a groom and one of the maids in the stables, and I watched so quietly, they never knew I was there. But I saw the way he gripped her and the way he put himself inside her. I thought at first she was in great pain but the way she kissed him and held on to him I knew it must be something other than pain that she felt. I soon realized that if I was stealthy and found myself in the depths of the castle, I would often come upon secret assignations and passionate trysts of every sort.

“I soon realized that not only did husbands and wives perform these acts for the purpose of procreation, as my governess would have me believe, but that many seemed to simply enjoy the act itself for its own sake. There was endless variation in who and where and the ways in which they pleasured each other. I saw men pleasure other men with their hands and mouths, and women do the same to each other. There were a few young women of the scullery who I saw with both men and women. Nobles and knights, maids and ladies all, as proper as the front people put up in company, I came to realize that we are all of us creatures of flesh and desires and that it seems silly to me to attach shame to something that is common to us all.”

Rumplestiltskin made a low keening sound, his cock so hard at the revelation his maid was a voyeur, that he nearly came then and there. Belle rubbed herself against him and groaned, “Yet this does not explain why you yourself are no maiden...please tell me more.” He could barely breathe, she was so beautiful and he still could not believe after all these months looking at her and wanting her in secret, she was willingly in his arms and so very eager for his touch. That he was sucking on her pert nipples while she told him unabashedly of her sexual awakening was beyond anything he could ever have dreamed in his long life. And that was saying something.

“Well, I began to explore my own body, at night, alone in my room. To play with my breasts as I had seen the groom handle those of the maid. I searched with my fingers, down between my legs, spreading myself and finding the place where the groom had put his cock.”

“Belle?” Rumplestiltskin gasped, taken aback that she knew such words, but she had been reading the ribald stories and looking at the texts and he soon realized he should not be surprised at all. “How old were you?”

“Um,” he could feel her still as she thought back, “perhaps fourteen or fifteen years, it was after my moon cycles had begun and my nurses had told me all that was deemed acceptable for me to know.” Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard, guiding Belle to sit on the low couch, he sunk down to kneel between her thighs. Hands wandering down to lift her skirts, divesting her of her underthings with trembling hands. It had been so many years since he had touched a woman like this, and Milah had never let him explore her as he wished to. She would shoo him away, urging him to get on with the act that brought children. But now this lovely creature opened herself to him, allowing him to slide his hands up the smooth columns of her thighs. To run his scaled fingers all the way to her center.

“Did you slip your fingers inside? Hmm.” Rumplestiltskin asked, sliding a finger between her lips and moaning when he discovered how wet she already was. Belle nodded and panted as he slid a long finger into her pussy. She was right, there was no resistance, he added another finger and she groaned.

“Yes,” Belle gasped, “I put my fingers inside, and after a while, when that didn’t satisfy me any more, the handle of my silver hairbrush. Rumple, my gods it feels so amazing! Please rub me, just there, I need to come so bad.” She wriggled down to meet him, angling her hips so he could thrust in and out with two fingers and rub her clit with his thumb.

“You know how to climax more than once, don’t you?” Rumple grinned, flashing her those teeth and giggling a bit, an impish sparkle in his eye. Belle nodded, breathless and writhing, and she did come, when she watched him lean in and suck her clit between his golden lips.

“Oh, gods Rumple.” Belle plucked at her breasts and Rumplestiltskin’s curly head bobbed between her thighs. She never knew something could feel as good as his long tongue laving her while his clever fingers thrust slowly and deeply into her.

Belle tangled her her fingers in his hair and scratched at his scalp, eliciting groans of pleasure. She cried out over and over, letting the feelings wash over her. Her own ministrations had brought her pleasure, but this new cacophony of overwhelming sensations all while watching Rumplestiltskin so obviously enjoy himself was simply too much. She coiled again and Rumple met her eyes, never slowing his rhythm, he worked his tongue and fingers until she came again, watching her face the whole time.

Belle clutched at him, tugging at his collar until he brought his face to hers. She could see her juices glistening on his chin and nose, his eyes alight and gleaming. She kissed him furiously, licking and sucking at his lips and tasting herself on him.

“You’ve tasted your own juices before?” Rumplestiltskin asked, sucking even more of her essence from his fingers.

“I was curious.” Belle shrugged, taking his hand and sucking a finger into her own mouth, twisting her tongue around it and releasing it with a ‘pop’.

“Of course you were,” Rumplestiltskin tittered, “I will never again curse your delightful curiosity. And now, what are you curious about now?”

Belle tugged at the laces of his breeches, and Rumplestiltskin’s breath shortened. “Say it,” he managed, taut as a bowstring above her.

Belle bit her lip and Rumplestiltskin waited, she licked her lips, “Your cock. I want to see it and taste it and know what it feels like inside me when you fuck me.” She pulled the lace free and began pushing the leather down over his hips, setting his cock free. Belle wrapped her small hand around it.

Rumplestiltskin nearly lost his mind when Belle pushed him back to lay on the cushions of the couch, her little fist stroking his erect cock up and down, her fingers not even touching around his girth. “Belle, you don’t need to do this.”

She paused above him and caught his eye, her hand stilling, but her thumb flicking gently across the very tip. His lips were parted and he was breathing hard. “I know,” she grinned, a wicked twinkle in her eye, “But the questions is, do you want me to do this?” She leaned in close, studying the veins and the golden shaft, the skin as scaled as that of his hands and face, but the head smooth and purple with a golden sheen. She wanted to lean down and lick it, instead she asked again, “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

He was transfixed. his eyes watching her face like a hawk, “You are a wonder, little maid.”

“Belle.”

“Belle. You are a wonder, Belle.” He trembled, “Yes.”

Her wicked smile quirked up, “Yes, what, Rumplestiltskin?”

“Oh, Belle, yes, please, take me in your sweet mouth,” he was shaking, “I want your mouth so badly.”

She slipped the head between her lips and swirled her tongue around the little hole at the tip, tasting the salty tang of his fluids. She moved her lips up and down, taking him in and loving the way he filled her mouth. His hips bucked beneath her and she heard him grunt. Belle tightened her lips and drove herself down upon his manhood, sucking him deep and gagging at the back of her throat. He touched her hair tentatively and she moaned and nodded around him and he tangled his fingers in her hair.

Belle came up for air, gasping and smiling, “I like it when you guide me,” she bit her lip, “you don’t need to be shy.” He tugged at her silky, chestnut locks, eyes wide in disbelief, and she nodded, shaking with the tension of a third coiling orgasm.

She went down on his cock again. Taking him deep and moaning when he thrust up to meet her lips, his fingers digging into her scalp. She moaned around him and he gasped at the sensation. She opened her throat, loving the way he grunted and trembled and cried out for her. She pressed her center against his thigh and came, the muscles of her legs fluttering and her lips still massaging his hard length. Belle could feel him holding back, and as much as she wanted to taste his seed, she wanted to feel him inside her dripping cunt even more.

“Oh gods,” he moaned, when she released his cock and crawled into his lap, reaching for a kiss. He bit her bottom lip as he had seen her do so many times, and then laved it with his tongue. Belle groaned, sliding her wetness along the length of his cock. “I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“I’ve wanted you to do that for months.”

“You have?”

“Yes, and this as well,” she gasped, angling her hips so that his cock was aligned with her entrance. He was still, allowing her to move atop him, carefully pressing herself down until he sunk into her. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, straddling his hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside her.

“Did you touch yourself, here in my castle?” He asked, rotating his hips slowly, hands bunched in her skirts, eyes on her breasts.

“Not at first, I was too upset,” she admitted, lifting herself and lowering, riding him gently, “But I have in the last few weeks.” She began to ride him harder, rising and falling and feeling him slip in and out, shallow and deep, shallow and deep. “I thought of you touching me and I made myself come.”

“And is this everything you thought it would be?” he asked, gasping as she ground hard against his groin, “Better than your silver hairbrush?”

Belle clenched herself around him, rocking back and forth against his hips, “So much better than I ever dreamed of.” She leaned in and kissed him, murmuring against his lips, “Better than my wildest imaginings.”

“Mine too,” Rumplestiltskin breathed into her mouth, clutching her close and revelling in the warm softness of her, in the sweet smell of her, in the delicious sounds of her pleasure.

Belle’s world suddenly twisted around, the purple smoke of his magic engulfing them and whisking away their clothing. Rumple lay atop her, covering her. She loved the feeling of skin against skin, and thought she might never get enough of it. She wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him back into her, sighing happily as he began to thrust.

Belle urged him to a rhythm that surprised and delighted him. She angled her hips to meet him and they watched each other’s faces as they built towards climax. Rumplestiltskin had never known such utter bliss in his life as this luscious woman wrapped around him and crying out her own pleasure at his every deep thrust. She was a balm and a wonder, and he hoped deep in his ruined soul that she would still desire to be his companion when this was done.

Suddenly Belle clung to him, her slick walls clenching hard around him. Her nails scraping at his shoulders, her heels pressing into his buttocks, Belle came to orgasm with a cry. She sucked in his earlobe and bit down gently and he spilled himself inside her with a grunt and a quiet, “Fuck.”

Belle gripped him tightly, not wanting him to withdraw, but to stay connected, their limbs entangled and their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together. Rumplestiltskin kissed her throat and collarbone before somehow twisting them both around so that she was draped atop him as he lounged across the pillows. Her sigh was languid, and she traced lazy patterns across the skin of his chest. Rumplestiltskin simply closed his eyes and ran his nails gently across her back.

Belle looked around, happier and more satisfied than she had ever been in her life. She watched the fairy lights twinkle among the branches of the great tree. “Are those snowflakes...real?” Belle asked in wonder.

Rumplestiltskin nodded sheepishly, “They are.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rumple,” Belle squeezed him tight, “can I call you that? I’m just so happy we can celebrate the yuletide together, and it will be so lovely.” She looked so lovely and happy, and a moment later her face fell.

“What is it, Belle? Are you alright?” He became concerned, lifting her chin to look at him. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no,” Belle insisted. “It’s just that I have no yule gift for you.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed and hugged her tight to his chest, kissing the top of her head, “You have already given me the greatest gift anyone has ever given me in my whole long life.”

“I have?” Belle searched his face, and he nodded.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he kissed her again, “acceptance. Now, I will race you for that last piece of gingerbread...”

Belle laughed as the smoke swirled and he “poofed’ out from under her, leaving her naked and giggling on the couch and Rumplestiltskin standing at the table, fully clothed and perfect from head to toe, the last piece of gingerbread poised at his lips. He paused, lowering his hand, and bringing the treat to her and offering her a bite.

Belle shook her head, reaching out to touch his perfectly curled hair, “It’s yours, Rumple. All of it.”


End file.
